First Impressions
by LivinJgrl123
Summary: *One-shot* They never go well, even though they eventually forget about the whole thing.


**I own nada. Except for the idea. That's mine.**

* * *

Visiting Gotham had never been on Lisa's wish list.

In fact, Gotham was one of the only places she would never willingly go. But, see, the key word was _willingly_.

As in, if it had been her choice, and her choice alone - and if it had been merely out of choice, instead of going because she was doing someone a favor, she would have shook her head profusely and asked to go to someplace else, almost any place else.

Now, she wouldn't have had to be here. Nope, she wouldn't have had to come to this wretched city, if it hadn't been for Cynthia. Or the fact that Lisa was a people pleaser. She couldn't have said no to the woman when she had come skirting to a halt in front of her in the hotel lobby two days ago, asking in a jumbled, frantic way that had been _so Cynthia _if Lisa could go to a conference in Gotham _in her place _because the hotel had been (still was, as a matter of fact) _swamped_ - and, for some reason, it had been better if _Lisa_ went.

And now Lisa was here, in the one of most crime-ridden cities in the - the - well, she didn't know if it was in world or the country or the continent, or just _how_ corrupted this place was, but she knew enough. Enough to know that all she needed to do was attend the conference, trust no one with anything (no exceptions)- not even the man who was currently driving (though he looked friendly enough and treated the people on the bus nice enough, as far as she could tell) the bus towards the business district she needed to be in, in less than an hour, in order to get to the meeting on time.

Getting to the hotel had been kind of nerve wracking. For someone who had returned from her grandmother's funeral and had caught the very last (uneventful, thank goodness) flight back to the city she worked in, she was doing pretty well - but her body was achy, and all she really wanted to do was sleep after going on two _long _flights in one week. Lisa had never been one for travel (much), but when she did, she always found herself exhausted, a bit disconcerted, and weary till she made it back home safely.

When she arrived at her stop and stepped out into the rain, she found that whoever _chose_ to live in this city was an idiot, because she knew that people were stuck here - a lot of people, actually, more than most would ever admit - for whatever their reasons, but if people chose to live in this hell hole . . . what was in it for them?

Well, besides money, corruption, power, crime - and probably death. That, too.

* * *

The conference had been rather boring. In all honesty, she hadn't really needed to be there. Just hotel stuff, had been the main topic of discussion. Cynthia might have needed to go - but she couldn't see a reason for it. No one else had been particularly thrilled to be there, or to see her there, either, and though she hadn't said much, she hadn't really made an effort to contribute to any of the discussions, professional ones or otherwise.

Get in, sit through, get out - that had been Cynthia's advise, because, though _she_ had family in Gotham, that didn't mean that the city was automatically a better, safer place. It was probably worse if you had people you knew

Lisa felt better with the knowledge that no one in this city would remember her in a couple of hours. She was on her way to the bus stop (the buses smelled funny, but she didn't necessarily trust cabbie drivers - mainly because they all looked shady and untrustworthy, though she knew she was just being overly paranoid) when she, unluckily, made her first, _real_ impression on a Gothamite (because everyone paid no mind to her at all, which was fine, until now, because someone _was_ paying attention to her).

Lisa, admittedly, had not been watching where she had been going. She had been fishing around in her purse, soaking wet, shivering, and dead-tired, for her cell phone, when she had slammed into him.

His bony, narrow left shoulder had slammed into her right one, and it had nearly sent her stumbling over the filthy, filled gutter and into the traffic-filled street. She looked up to apologize, her mouth open to begin asking for the stranger's forgiveness, but her words died in her throat as her eyes settled on the man who had just picked up his umbrella and brief case.

The man was handsome, dark haired, and he looked positively _pissed_ at the fact that she hadn't been watching where she was going. The fact that he was glaring at her when she had been about to apologize miffed her, so she snapped her mouth shut, and gave him a withering look, similar to the one he was sending her over his shoulder as she started walking towards the bus stop once again. She had paid no mind to him, but he remained where he was, watching the soaked-to-the-bone woman walk away until she (miraculously) blended into a crowd of equally soaked and umbrella-less young women and men (though, she wasn't as nicely-dressed as they were, and she looked more than a bit frazzled).

Shrugging to himself, the man slowly (but surely) forgot about the woman. His last thoughts of her had been: _I wonder if that woman would have made a good test subject._

__The Scarecrow inside his head growled at him for letting an opportunity for a new test subject pass him by, but he easily dismissed the voice inside his head, shoving it aside as it snarled at him.

There would always be more test subjects.


End file.
